The Nickel
by Semine Midnight
Summary: Named because my best friend wouldn't stop saying it. The title has no meaning. This is a HollyFoaly. If you don't like it, don't read it. It is meant to inspire others please?. Grub finds something out, and gets help. Read and review! FINI!
1. Smoke, Repairs, and Snack Rituals

**This time, I do own something! Yay! **

**I own the ritual for getting a snack for the vending machine! The "D'Arvit!" can be substituted for the cuss of the speaker's preference!**

Enjoy!**

* * *

**"Foaly?" Grub cried as he stumbled into the Ops booth. He had a small computer that was hissing and emitting smoke in his hand.

The centaur's rapid typing came to a screeching halt.

"Problem, Grub?" he asked, knowing perfectly well that if Grub were there, there was a problem. Or there was about to be one.

It was at precisely that moment that the small computer decided to explode. Random bits of computer innards where strewn all over the place and both fairies just barely had time to duck.

"That's the problem," Grub said, looking at what used to be his automatic reference/communications device.

"What did you do to it?" Foaly asked, taking the still-intact, micro-chipped backing out of the elf's hand. "Give it to a troll to play with?"

"No…"

"Well, what then?" Foaly was irritated.

"I pressed a weird button."

"Hm…" the centaur started, "did it happen to have a little skull and crossbones on it?" he asked sardonically.

"Well…yes."

"Huh! Then I wonder why it exploded!" The centaur went over to one of his desks and took out a set of prods, welding prods, goggles, and new pieces. "You're damn lucky, Grub, that these chips are expensive and I can't replace them. I'm not the repair shop!"

"But you're the only one who could repair it!" Grub countered. It was a rare moment of brilliance.

"Sadly," Foaly muttered, already bent over the backing, securing new pieces to it.

"Anything I can do?" Grub asked.

"Go stand in that corner. Don't touch anything."

Grub went over to the corner Foaly indicated. He was thinking of filing a complaint (for boredom) when something on one of the monitors caught his eye.

It was typed on a perfectly normal Faerie Word Document. The top read, "Dateline: 3/14/99 11:36 am, Foalonious Rydier writing."

Grub choked back a giggle. He never knew that Foaly had such a ridiculous first name.

His eyes scanned down the page until they landed on something interesting. The elf's features turned pale, then pink, and then they returned to the normal color. His lips curved into a small smile, and he had another rare moment of brilliance.

"Grub!" Foaly voice cut through the elf's meditation. "You alive?"

"Yes."

"You won't be if you mess with anything." The centaur lifted his goggles and inspected the freshly fixed reference/communications device. "C'Mere."

Grub came.

"See that button? No press that button," Foaly said slowly, pointing at the small button with a skull and cross bones on it.

"I know," Grub said indignantly. He took back his computer. "I need to go see Hol- er, Captain Short."

"Next time, Grub," Foaly said, already returning to his computers, "be sure to explode your helmet. Attached to your head."

Grub ran out of the Ops booth, to hear the sound of Foaly's typing again. He grinned a tiny grin, but then fell over a wastebasket. He made a mental note to write up a complainant about rouge dustbins.

* * *

Chay Whitfield was performing the ritual for getting a snack out of the vending machine: put in two coins, kick the right side twice, slap the left side, pound four times with your fist on the top, shout "Open up, D'Arvit!" and insert the last needed coins. Press the button, and shake as desired. He had just pulled his fungus cookies from the opening when Grub stumbled in. 

"Whitfield!" the slightly-inept captain said, "do you know how much it would cost to replace that?"

"No."

"Then why are you beating it up?"

"To get a cookie."

"Cookie or no, I require your assistance!"

"Mmm-mm-hmm." Chay's mouth was full.

"Come on, swallow! You owe me!"

"What is it?"

"Do you know what month it is?" Chay did the math.

"March. Almost…St. Patrick's day."

"And what month follows this?"

"April, of course! What are you getting at?" Chay took another bite of his cookies.

"The first day of April is April Fool's Day in Mud Man. I want to begin the tradition down here, and you're going to help me!"

"What if I don't?"

"I'll tell about your method for getting a snack, and I'll file a complaint about too many cookies in the vending machines."

"You can do better."

"Have you ever sat on a cactus? I can arrange for you to experience it."

"Fine, fine. I'll help…what do we need done?"

"I need you to…." Grub whispered into Whitfield's ear. Whitfield smirked and took a bite of cookie.

"Got it," he said around cookie, and went back to his cubicle. Grub cackled. It was a rare moment of brilliant evilness.

* * *

Review and I'll go on!  



	2. Paperwork, Books, and Filler

The author discovered that she forgot to do something. Remember this momentous occasion, as it will (hopefully) not occur again...

**Disclaimer: I own the plot, typing, dialogue, methods for getting snacks, and generally everything that makes this story funny (omitting the characters). I do not own the books, nor the rights to the books, nor am I Eoin Colfer. Therefore, I am simply a writing geek who's obsessed with fanfiction who owns nothing and is writing this for your amusement. So sit up and take notice, D'Arvit!**

** Ps. I do not own "D'Arvit!" I merely use it liberally.**

Enjoy!

* * *

Holly Short was doing paperwork. She hated paperwork. 

Because she had just gotten back from a few consecutive missions and had put off the work then, she had _tons _of paperwork to fill out. Never mind that they were thoroughly basic and unimportant flybys, checking things out to be sure nothing was up; there was paperwork to be done.

Three staplers were lying on her desk sideways, as if they were dead soldiers on the battlefield. Papers (stapled and unstapled) were strewn about her desk, on the floor (along with a thin, worn brown book), crowding the outbox, crowding the inbox, tacked to the wall, under her chair, and on top of her computer monitor. She was also sitting on a few.

Chay knocked on the wall of her cubicle.

"Hey, Holly?" He caught her in mid-sentence on a particularly tedious and long information sheet. Holly turned to him, her hair messy, and her left eye twitching.

"Captain Short," she corrected him, irritated, "what do you want?"

"Er, could I borrow a POR disk?" he asked. POR was an acronym for Portable Office Storage. Add a disk, and you've essentially got a severely jazzed up floppy disk.

She yanked one from her computer and tossed it at him.

"Erase your stuff before you return it. Now, get out," she said, turning back to her work.

"Thanks, Captain Short," Whitfield said, escaping. He didn't hear Holly's grunt as she scrawled away on paperwork, deciding to lay off the coffee for a while. She didn't notice that the book that had fallen onto the floor had been snitched.

* * *

Later, at quitting time, Chay went over to Grub.

"This it?" he asked, forking over the book.

"I think so," Grub responded, much less sure of himself than previously.

"How do you know?"

"Um…I heard Chix talking about it. He says that she scribbles in it sometimes, stuff about her fantasies about him."

"I'm sure," Chay said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "So, hold onto this until April?"

"Uh-huh," Grub said, and nearly opened the book.

"Duck!" Chay hissed, and shoved Grub into the closest cubicle and throwing himself in afterwards. The intern in the cubicle was startled, to say the least.

Holly slowly passed, worn out from the menial and tedious paper working.

"What was that for?" Grub demanded.

"Captain Short just passed! You wouldn't want to get caught, now would you?"

"Oh."

* * *

And now, because I can't think of anything more to write for plot, I shalt entertain you with a little something I like to call…filler.

And now, ladies and gentleman, elves and fairies, nerd, dorks, geeks, writers, and readers of _all_ ages, I introduce to you,

…The Return of Fillerstein. (Those of you who have read the Matchmaker, feel free to laugh hysterically. Those who hadn't, disregard the pun.)

* * *

_Foalonious Rydier's Diary, 3/14/99 11:36 AM_

_Got in at six-thirty. Am dragging thanks to lack of sleep. Do not even know why I am writing. Am making up for it by using awful grammar._

_Finished Beetroot's demands for prototype. Will scream if have to see another C4HQ2000 microchip today. Will goddamn scream._

_Am also using awful and weak profanities. Do not feel justified in spite of this._

_Holly looks…tired. Noticed it when going to get fourth cup of coffee. She was sitting in the vending machine room, with her head on the table. She had a caffeine-high bottle of sugar water clenched in her hand. Did not pick up head when I said good morning. Responded with somewhat of a grunt. Other Recon jocks are finally teaching her the language._

_Have written it previously, and will not say it again. _

…_Alright, once more._

_It isn't fair that a Recon jock/female Recon "Guinea pig"/irritant/poison tongued elf should be so attractive when she is thoroughly exhausted. Not to say, of course, that she doesn't look good thoroughly awake. Quite the opposite._

_As mentioned previously, if am simply restating what was written before, do not know why am writing. _

_Ooh, Grub's carrying something smoking. Fresh carrot¹. Fresh, irritating, incompetent carrot._

_But hey, carrot's carrot.

* * *

_

¹Saying "Ooh…fresh carrot," is about the same as saying "Ooh…fresh meat." A centaur probably wouldn't write "Ooh…fresh meat."

Please **review**! You know what happens if you don't ((cursor hovered over the "Remove Story" button."))


	3. Nap, Bedtime, and Mommy

Hello again! Thanks to all who reviewed! You rock!

Here's more! I hope you like it...

Enjoy!

* * *

Holly slipped into her apartment and fell out of her jumpsuit, and into a set of civilian clothing. She ran a hand through her auburn hair, and plopped down on her sofa. She glimpsed over at her briefcase and groaned. 

She didn't like paperwork. It drained her energy, and she needed all of her energy everyday. Like, for Root's yelling and Chix's advances. (Plus, she hadn't gotten enough sleep last night.) She couldn't make it without enough power to afford to use her sharp tongue.

But, she also needed clarity and grounding. That was why she kept a dia- er…account of her life. (Yeaahh….that was it.) There was nothing to de-spazz and release anger like writing your feelings down, into words, onto paper, for all eyes in the world to see, real, physical, and staring back up at you.

'Clarity and grounding,' she decided. 'That's what I need.'

She tried to pull herself off of her sofa, but could barely move her limbs. Paperwork must have taken more out of her than she thought.

'Clarity and grounding,' she decided. 'That's what I need. Clarity and grounding…right after a nap…'

* * *

At eight-fifty three, Foaly did one last check, booted the security system, polished off an apple, and was out of the Ops booth in less than ninety seconds. 

Not bad, for a personal record.

He clopped through the Tech department, glimpsing into the empty cubicles that held eager, arrogant, and annoying techies in the daytime. Techies much like himself. (Author's Note: The author wishes to mention that not all techies are created equally, and therefore this will not apply to the tech people in other forms of work. I IDOLIZE YOU GUYS!)

Hopping onto the late-night Haven subway system, Foaly rode the rails until he got to a busy section of the metropolis just northeast of the Police Plaza. His apartment was smallish, but comfy, and held all of his take-home/prototype technology. The only problem was getting himself in there…

He key-padded himself in and locked the door, then went into his bedroom and promptly fell onto his mattress. Foaly lay on his bed, thinking. Then, he curled his legs under him and yanked up a blanket, falling into a deep sleep.

* * *

Grub was sitting at his mother's kitchen table. In all honesty, he _did_ have an apartment, but he came to see his mother once almost everyday. It was then that he made true his threats to Trouble.

He was thinking. His mother was worried.

He was thinking about what Chay had brought him. Perhaps the best thing to do was simply hold on to it.

"Grubby, honey, have you seen my glasses? I know I just put them down…" his mother called.

"They're on the counter, Mommy," Grub responded, and realized something. Holly would notice that her book was gone! If she wrote in it all the time, it would only be a matter of hours before she started looking for it!

'What would Troub do?' Grub focused as hard as he could. 'What would Troub do?'

It came to him in pieces. He slowly connected them.

'Read it tonight!' a part of him said. 'Read it and copy what you need! Go! Go!'

Grub got to his feet and put his empty glass in the sink. He leaned over and kissed his mother, saying, "Thanks, Mommy." Then, he pulled on his blazer and dashed out the door, to his mother's cry of, "Be in bed by nine-thirty!"

* * *

It's short and stupid, but it sets the scene! 

Review and I'll give you something better!

And for those of you who need incentive: ...REMOVE STORY KEY! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!


	4. Notes, Coffee, and Hiding

Yo. **I don't own pong.** You'll see.

Enjoy!

* * *

Grub got home at nine-forty five. Disregarding his mother's rules, he sat down in his living room and cracked Holly's journal open. Grub grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen and began taking notes. 

An hour later, the following was scrawled out on the paper:

_Hides from Chix + Root in Ops booth._

_Pays Foaly in carrots for hiding place_

_F+H blackmail each other often_

_H likes the centaur!_

Grub closed the book and tossed it into his briefcase. He went to his bedroom and flopped into bed.

* * *

In Haven, coffee was a necessity. Without coffee, there was no thought. Without thought, there was no life. And life was, well, life. And so coffee was a necessity.

No one could resist its tempting charms. Its smooth-as-silk texture and scent that said, "Come, partake, I am everything and nothing, know me, and know thyself." (Admittedly, coffee was more important and better tasting in Haven then on the surface of the Earth.)

Captain Holly Short was no exception. But the coffee maker in the LEP vending machine room was still two blocks away, and she had approximately a minute and a half until she was late.

Curse the softness of her couch! Curse the string of sleepless nights! Curse the willpower she apparently had a lack of!

Good thing she fell off the couch, otherwise she might never have woken up.

She had snatched her briefcase and grabbed a clean jumpsuit, running out the door and slamming it behind her. She then vaulted over two fences, and ran like hell to the front of the Police Plaza. Which was now only one block away, with forty seconds to go. The meager crowd outside stole twenty of those seconds, and another ten were used in making a mad dash to the hallway that held the punch-card machine. Eight seconds were taken by the dash down the hallway, and one more used to slam her card in and out of the machine. The bell rang one half second afterwards.

She looked down at her card, breathing heavily. It said "Due by 9 o'clock AM, Entered: 8:59:59 AM"

Holly victory-danced over to the coffee machine, to the bewildered stares of many.

* * *

The walls of the Ops booth shook as the door slammed. Foaly didn't even turn around.

"'Lo, Holly," he said, eyes on the monitor. "Chix or Root?"

"Chix. He's gonna enter in about fifteen seconds. If he asks, I'm not in the cabinet." The small cabinet (which was used to hold snack and larger tools (in separate compartments))'s door slammed.

Foaly suppressed a smile and prepared his customary, indignant, "How-dare-you-burst-in-here-when-I'm-working?" face.

Chix came in ten seconds later. His eyes darted around, and they saw a highly irritated centaur.

"New thing called knocking. Ever heard of it?" Foaly asked.

"You seen Holly? I got a little present for her," Chix said, not answering Foaly's question. Foaly got out of his swivel chair with a bit of difficultly and came over to the sprite, towering over his little green body.

"First of all, you busted into my office without my authorization. That is called trespassing. Second of all, you are giving chase to a female who wants nothing to do with you. That is called sexual abuse.

"Third of all, you are wasting my time when I may actually doing something productive to ask me if I have seen the fairy that you are sexually abusing. I will not forget to mention your name to Commander Root when I explain why the revisals on a prototype are not finished on time. Now, anything else I can help you with?" Foaly asked with suddenly sweet sarcasm.

Chix made a sullen "Nuh-uh" sound and turned tail, leaving the booth. The clocks in the booth ticked. Fifteen seconds later, Foaly had sat back down in his seat, and was looking with amusement at the cabinet.

The door flew open, and Holly's head shot out from the opening. She gasped a huge breath of air, looked right, looked left, and burst into laughter. The rest of Holly came out of the cabinet.

"My knight in shining tin foil!" she exclaimed. "I wish I could have seen his little green face!"

"Glad to help," Foaly said, turning once more to his computer. Holly came up behind him.

"Sorry; did I interrupt your work?" she asked. Foaly gave her a look, one that said, "What means this work?"

"See this?" he asked, pointing at the monitor. Holly looked.

"Is that…pong?" she asked, laughing again.

"Yup. I sent the revisals off this morning."

"Smooth. But you're down eighty points."

"Inconsequential!"

"Consequential!" Foaly looked at her slyly.

"Oh, Chiiiiii-ixxxxx!" he called. Holly slugged him.

"Better get back to work," she said. "What do I owe you this time?"

"Mmm…how about…you admit that I am the lord and master of the Universe and go get me an apple from the cabinet?"

"Bite me…" Holly began.

"Oi, CHIX!" Foaly called.

"Let me finish!" Holly said, grabbing an apple. "Bite me, O lord and master of the Universe." She chucked the apple maybe slightly more vehemently that absolutely necessary. "See ya."

Holly left, and Foaly kept an eye on her as she retreated from the Tech department. He sighed and smiled to himself. Then, he almost-reluctantly returned to his game of pong.

* * *

Whew! Long one! 

Review!

Oh, and sorry I have no witty post-chapter shtick. I've decided that the "Remove Story" thing was getting old, so I'll have to work up to something new. But gimme a break! It's been a slow week!


	5. Nickels, Discoveries, and POR

**Okay, here I am! With a long one (seriously, this time)! This is the chapter where the title of the story _finally_ has some meaning! (It was a psychological thing...creepy.) And to fill up space: **

**At the request of many (okay, Kali), for the first time ever, appearing in color (er, maybe not), I give you:**

**PROPS!  
**

**slime frog-** Be afraid, for I am not yet done with the "Remove Story" button. But thank you all the same. I truly appreciate your comments. THANKS!

**Fetish Female-** At a whopping 3-in-a-row reviews, you are the one who has posted your praise most consistently (and quickly). THANK YOU! I'd love to see your take on this pairing. I read that you're a reader only, but I hope that you do start writing one day. I really appreciate your quick reviews!

**Kali Donovan-** Ah, Kali, Kali, Kali. Such short reviews, hardly ever boosting my ego…;)P. Thanks, for you were the FIRST one to ever review to this story. YOU ROCK! And may your ego meter forever go up! (You didn't think I'd forgotten you, didja?)

**sami-** Despite the very dubious review (I still have no clue to the meaning), I appreciate your "Wa ha!" and hope that it means something good. Thanks, in any case!

**SenexCowan- **Dear sir: Thank you for the reviews and the constructive criticism. It has helped my writing immensely! Hope you like the next chapter (and that I don't have to clear too many things up)!

**Orphanchild58-** Rather than risk any annoying wrath, I'll just go on with the story! Thank you for your reviews, and the statement that my story rocks! It does, doesn't it…okay, now, you see what happens when you people inflate my ego (not to say that you should stop, or anything…)

**Redwren-** Glad you liked the "knight in shining tin-foil" thing. It came to me in an over-caffeinated day-dream, and I think it's one of my favorite lines in the story. And yes, they are kinda-sorta-a-little-bit flirting. THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS!

**Ariana the musical genius- **Thank you for your many posts! Is this a soon-enough update?

**athleticsrulz- **I'm really happy that you luv this story! I never get tired of hearing that…thanks for your reviews!

**blue-elf3001-** I'm happy that you responded. Hope this chapter fits your liking!

**BHS-** I'm updating, I'm updating! Speaking of which, I hope you like this update! Gratzi for the review!

**fish stix satay-** If people give you strange looks for laughing, show them this story and have them review! Glad you thought this was funny…I try! Thanks for your reviews!

**jennabell- **Don't worry, Foaly'll win, eventually. THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS! (And for all you pervs out there, in reference to what I typed before the Caps Lock thing, NOT LIKE THAT!)

**Ace-** I tell no more. You'll give have to read! Thanks for the review!

**Okay, that's it! I'm done!**

**Enjoy!

* * *

**

That day, Grub watched as Holly ducked out of her cubicle. Chix Verbil followed her.

Carefully, slowly, and with the Mud Man song "Mission Impossible" running through his head, he deposited the journal back onto Holly's desk.

* * *

(Author hits the (metaphorical!)fast-forward button Look, there's nothing really happening at this point. I mean, nothing. So, I'm going to late March, early April, where there will actually be some action. You try filling in weeks and weeks of stuff when you have no ideas! See what happens to your brain then!)

* * *

Chay was buzzed the into Ops booth. A nickel-sized POR disk was sitting on a counter. 

The reason for the incredible similarity between a nickel and a POR disk is simply that if an officer or other agent were to mislay a disk on a mission (sadly, this has been known to happen), the disk would be about as inconspicuous as you can get. (Does anyone ever look twice at the nickels that come into their possession?) A Mud Man wouldn't look too closely at it, and would probably end up passing it on to another equally inobservant human, giving the LEP ample time to retrieve the file, if necessary. The only difference was that a Mud Man nickel was slightly thinner, making it possible for the disk to be slipped into a computer drive.

"I'm looking for Holly," he said, carefully manipulating his hands behind his back to switch the POR disk with an apprehended Mud Man nickel, "have you seen her?"

"No. I do not follow Captain Short's activities for every second of every day. Therefore, I do not know where she is. Do you have anything else you would like to waste my time on?" Foaly retorted.

"Huh, you're touchy. Is it your time of the month?" Chay muttered, flipping the "nickel" into the air and catching it, as he walked out. Thanks to Foaly's lack of coordination, a paper ball missed Chay's head by inches. Unfortunately, the barrage of cusses on Chay's head hit their target.

He passed Holly, who looked both thoroughly appalled by the language used and thoroughly entertained by the language used.

Chay milled around the office a bit, just long enough for Foaly to get bored. Then he jumped into his desk, putting the disk into the desktop. A window came up on the computer, alerting him of new software found. Chay clicked on it, gasping lightly when the word document came up on the screen.

He sat back for a moment, thinking what he'd found, and how it would put a whole new twist on Grub's plans.

Chay had promised himself that he wouldn't get interested in the whole ordeal, but now he found himself deeper into it and more absorbed than safety allowed. In the beginning, it had been just the payback of a favor, but he was enjoying Grub's prank more and more as time wore on.

'Oh well,' he thought, 'too late now.'

Passing behind him, Chay heard the unmistakable clunky walk of one Grub Kelp.

"Grub? C'mere. I've found a great case file," Chay said, lacing his words with intrigue. Grub came in and peered over the other elf's shoulder to stare at the screen, a grin spreading across his face as he read on.

"This isn't what you were supposed to get," Grub said, not sounding disappointed at all.

"Are you objecting?"

"…No…are you going to copy it?"

"Well," Chay said, "I don't know. On the one hand, it's a violation of privacy. On the other, it's a once-in-lifetime opportunity. And Foaly- I'm sorry, _Foalonious_, is so paranoid that he probably backed everything up."

The two sat quietly for a moment.

"Okay," Chay said, "What if I copy this file and then jump back into the Operations booth to switch the disk with the…nickel? That way we still have this, and it won't be missed…"

"Yeah," Grub said, still a little disoriented from the discovery, "you do that."

"I'll be right back, make yourself at home."

* * *

Holly went to see Foaly. It had been a very slow day at the LEP (a goblin gang, careless sprite, and the usual beats around the city), and she was on her break. Deciding to get her dose of sarcasm, banter, and "unappreciated genius" for the day, she headed for the Ops booth. 

Foaly, meanwhile, was looking for his disk. He found it on the counter.

Carefully picking up his "marvel of modern computer storage and brilliant camouflage", he attempted to put it into the disk drive. Sadly, a nickel is, as earlier mentioned, almost identical to a POR disk, but slightly thicker.

In Layman's terms, it wouldn't fit. This did not sway our favorite stubborn centaur from trying.

Holly reached the steel door and knocked four times.

Foaly buzzed her in, deciding to get some muscle in the booth.

"You look winded," she said, looking smug, "did you try to get out of your chair?"

"I have been attempting to load a disk, thankyouverymuch," Foaly huffed.

"Oh, you can't force it in?" Holly asked in a condescending tone, biting her lower lip as if to keep a smile off of her face. "You see, that's what happens when you don't exercise!"

"Okay, you little jock," Foaly retorted (albeit rather weakly), "let's see what you can do."

Holly rolled up her sleeves, pushed Foaly aside, and yanked the nickel out. She almost had to prop her foot against the CPU to get it. Once it was out, she gently placed it in the opening. She nudged it.

Finally, she got tired of the gentle attempt and switched to putting her weight on it.

A few rude mutterings later, she pulled the disk out of the drive. Holly tossed it onto the counter, disgusted. Foaly looked very, very smug.

"So, Captain Short," he drawled, wheeling his chair over to the CPU again. "Not all you're cracked up to be, eh?"

If looks could kill, there would be empty space where Foaly was sitting.

Holly was spared having to retort with a witty comeback by an insistent knocking at the door. Foaly looked the in security monitor, and saw Chay in front of the booth.

"By the way," he said, "I believe that Whitfield is becoming the next Verbil. I'd be on my toes if I were you, thank gods I'm not."

Foaly buzzed Chay in. Holly glared at the techie, then plastered a neutral smile on her face.

"Foaly, Beetroot sent me down to ask if you have the prototype running yet, and then, predicting your answer, he wants me to ask why the D'Arviting hell not?" Chay said, then took a look at both fairies' faces. "Hey, you're both a little red. What's up?" he asked, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Ugh, nothing like that, you pervert," Holly said. "Foaly's disk won't fit. No Mud Man currency has seen the innards of the LEP in weeks, so it can't be a real nickel."

Chay took a closer look.

"It sure looks like a nickel," he stated.

"Yes, well, that's sort of the point," Foaly commented. He was already tapping away at one keyboard and hooking the shell of something up to a few jacks in a CPU.

"No, I mean, it really looks like a real nickel. See here, the drive's just a bit too thin. This might be real," Chay said, peering into the drive of one of the computers.

Foaly, his eyes still on the monitor, plucked the coin out of Chay's grasp.

"Only one way to find out," he muttered, and knocked it against the table.

_CLACK!_

All three fairies stared at the coin. It had to be a nickel, because POR disks made an unmistakable _PING_ sound.

"So…" Holly said, "we have a Mud Man coin which apparently has made us all look like idiots, and a missing disk."

Foaly was already tearing a section of the booth apart, as if his life depended on it. Chay silently and quickly placed the real disk onto a table.

"Now that I've delivered my message, I'd better be going. Good luck with finding it," he said, and made a clean getaway.

When he was about halfway down the hall, he heard Holly's voice say, "Hey, I think I found it…"

* * *

I would like to thank all the little people, and my family, my friends, Foamy the squirrel, and...whoa! Wrong speech, sorry! 

Well, I hope you enjoyed this, and your props! I think I got everyone who ever reviewed...

So thanks!

Review! (still no witty shtick...I'm working on it!)


	6. Emails, Porn, and Death

Despite the props I gave out, I couldn't help but notice that there were very few of reviews. While I do graciuously thank those that did review, I yell and scream at those who didn't. I know some of you are busy and have that funny little thing called a "life," but five minutes is all it would take! So, I deem this to be a good punishment: a short chapter. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Right. So, here it is.

* * *

Holly left after she found Foaly's disk. He had muttered some very creative cuss words, and said farewell by way of stuck-out tongue. Holly recognized the signs that meant that he would be sullen for the rest of the afternoon, so she left the Ops booth, considering her break over. 

It was one of the days in Police Plaza where nothing important occurs. But then, why should anything? The Mud Boy was safely (or the closest approximate) above ground and monitored constantly, and nothing showed that he was up to anything. Then again, looks can be deceiving.

But nothing could currently snag the attention of the LEP. Holly bopped back to her cubicle and parked herself in front of her computer, resorting to one of the ultimate evils: checking her email, it being one of the ultimate evils because she hadn't had time to check it. She was always either running errands or going above-ground for routine flybys, which resulted in the other ultimate evils: paperwork.

Most of it was deleted, but what she saved required her to go around the building, picking up something that claimed to need her attention but clearly didn't.

Holly passed by Chay Whitfield's cubicle, in which he and Grub were pouring over something on the screen. Her natural curiosity over taking her, she popped her head into the cubicle.

"What are you guys looking at?" Holly asked, making the two inhabitants jump.

"Porn," said Grub, while Chay gave his excuse of, "Case files." They looked at each other, then immediately switched excuses.

"Ah. A case file on underage pornography and prostitution? I didn't know you guys were on the same case," Holly mused. "Can I take a look?"

"Sure," Chay said.

"No," Grub said.

Holly looked from Chay to Grub, Grub to Chay, and asked, "Which is it?"

"Sure," Chay repeated quickly, before Grub could speak.

"Scooch," Holly muttered, pushing Grub (in his rolling chair) out of the way.

(Author's Note: "Scooch" is pronounced "sch-OO-ch." It's relatively nicer than saying, "shove over.")

Her eyes ran left to right over the monitor, reading quickly. Every now and again, she would say something like, "Wow, this grammar is awful," or "What a nerdy name."

Eventually, however, she looked up, and smiled.

"This isn't a case file, is it?" she asked slyly.

"Uh…no," Grub admitted.

"This guy's in the LEP. This is gossip!" Holly said cheerfully. Not normally one for gossip, she would take amusement in any of its forms, today.

She continued reading. Chay came over and tapped her.

"Uh, Holly? Could we have the monitor back?"

"Hang on, I just saw my name mentioned. I wanna see what the office is saying about me."

"Really, Holly, I think you should--"

As many things tend to be, Chay was too little, too late. Holly's jaw dropped and one could almost hear the gears in her brain working as she fit together the pieces of the puzzle.

* * *

A Brief Interlude: the Ops Booth

* * *

Foaly had looked up at one of his camera monitors precisely at that moment. His brow furrowing, he zoomed in on a cubicle that was looking rather full. His camera caught Holly, jaw agape, and Whitfield and Kelp, looking worried for their skins. On the monitor, Foaly could just make out the name "Foalonious Rydier." 

He turned deathly pale. Hacking as quickly as he could, Foaly furiously crashed the computer in Chay's cubicle. Then, he tried to prepare his constitution for the fireworks.

* * *

We Now Return You to Your Regularly Scheduled Programming

* * *

The computer made a _bewerrrreoooop_ sound and the monitor went black. Holly turned toward Chay and Grub. 

"I was never here," she said in a slow, quiet, and very dangerous tone. "You never saw anything." Gesturing in the general direction of the camera, which hung on the ceiling a few cubes over, she said, "That goes for you, too, _Foalonious_."

Holly walked out of the cubical.

"We're dead," Grub said. "If Holly doesn't kill us…"

"…Foaly will," Chay finished.

As a finally insult, the computer turned back on briefly, just long enough for but fairies to see that Chay's desktop wallpaper had been replaced with the words, "Damn straight." Then, the computer blinked back off.

* * *

My witty shtick: If you don't review, I will send flying apricots to kill you in your sleep. 

Don't laugh. Good relationship with apricots I have.

BE AFRAID!

...oh, yeah. And please review!


	7. Water, Talks, and Funeral Marches

**_Thank you to all! Longest chapter ever!  
_**

**_This is my very last chapter, so I'm giving you all props before you read! Whoo-hoo!_  
**

Note: this is only for those who responded to Chapter 6. Everyone else I already got.

**First and foremost, to my beta-reader and best friend, Kali Donovan:** You have been so, so, so, so, so, so, so much help in this story! I love you for that and shall lavish you with praise, cookies, and baked macaroni as soon as possible! **Note to all peoples: Kali's genius is responsible for many of the witty quips and discription! She is also responsible for my almost-constant updating, in my attempt to be a good example for her! Kali has convinced me to keep my fanfiction career going, which is responsible for the fact that I keep myself up at night, trying to think up new story ideas for you all. Lavish her with praise by reading and reviewing her Teen Titans fanfictions; they rock!** Kali, there is no doubt in my mind that you are a true goddess, and the next beta reading you need is on the house. And yes, I know you will kill me for embarrassing you!

**Quill in Hand: **Thank you, dahling for the luverly review! It means so much! I'm glad I guilted you into it ((wink)). And I , too, am on the constant look-out for Holly/Foaly action. But, if life give you lemons, write your own stories...wait...that didn't sound right...anyway, thanks for the reviews, hon!

**Ariana the musical genius: **DAHHHHHHLLLINNNG! Thank you for the review, dear! Yoda rox; that's why. And your reviews have been both constant and luverly. Thanks a bunch, kiddo!

**Calipotato:** Lurve your name! Have you been reading this whole time and not reviewing until the sixth chapter ((narrows eyes with smirk))? (You too, Quill!) Well, I'm glad you did review, and glad you liked it! Thanks!

**athleticsrulz**: I said it before, I'll say it again: I never get tired of hearing that! (okay, maybe a little...) THANK YOU SO MUCH, AS YOU HAVE REVIEWED FROM THE BEGINNING AND HAVE BEEN VERY KIND THE ENTIRE WAY THROUGH! Thou art truely a wonderful human being (or human bean, as I like to say!) You rock in stereo!

**Lisa:** Here's a nice, long chapter. I hope you enjoy it! In this one, I hope the characters aren't off-center ((sweatdrops)). Thanks for the review!

**SenexCowan: **Dear sir: I hope you enjoy this humble bit of utter nonsense, and I look forward to being kidnapped. Might I recommend Earl Grey caffeinated tea, if you haven't already tried it? Thank you so much for your reviews and consructive criticism!

**JayJayde: **Thank you for the review! I'm glad you think it was cool! Peace, love, and happiness, dahling! You'd make a great  
comedian; you're so funny!

**Mom:** Yo, Mom! Thank you for reviewing! It means a bunch. I hope you read this, and I hope it stands out! I know that you don't often get to read what I write, mostly because we're both really, really busy all of the time. But I'm happy you got around to seeing this, and I hope you like the ending. But if you start crying at your desk, young lady, I'm sending Molly to Pakistan to cheer you up! And you don't want that to happen (she smells awful)! So read and review, hon! Hugs and kisses.

**Redwren: **I love the e-ville larf (laugh) in your review! Apricots are curious objects, aren't they... Thank you for all of your reviews, O sweet one!

**FetishFemale:** One week...short enough? Anyhow, thank you for all of your reviews; thou hast been most kind. I had to punish the e-ville ones among us, I'm afraid ((eyes dart left to right suspiciously)) Thank you so much, m'dear! You've been very sweet! Good luck with your reading career!

**slime frog:** Oh, dear, what can I say about you. Well, first off, you're bloody brilliant, hysterically funny, and infinately wise (apricots _are_ up to something; I'm glad someone else knows!) You're right; who needs other reviewers when I've got you all, such a brilliant bunch! Your stories are funny, too ((giggle)). Thank you so much for all your kindness and time! You rock! I hope to hear from you again someday soon!

**Cricket-chan: **I'm so pleased you love it! Cleaning is overrated, you know...(my brain: yeah, so says she-with-spotless-room.) Thank you for your reviews. **Big, shiny note: Everyone who reviewed to chapter six, be sure to read the closing remarks about the apricots!**

**Titanic: **Whoot! Another shipper! Huzzah! I wish you many prosperous stories and I'll be keeping an eye out for you! Thank you so much for your review!

**Yuna-flowering:** I'm glad you find the story amusing; I try! Thanks so much for your review! Power and prosperity to your Final Fantasy fics!

**-anon-anon-anon**- : Thank you for the compliments! They mean a lot. I'm really pleased you think it's funny: I tried to be, but without going over the top. Thank you!

_**On a slightly different note:**_

**Knight of Eternal Darkness: **I will take your reviews as flames, simply because the repitition of "Die, Frond, die" so eloquently pointed out your feelings. This is the revisial of the first response I typed, and it appears to be coming off much less nastily.

While I do appreciate the fact that you actually reviewed to my story, the wit (if there indeed was any and it completely flew over my head) seemed cruel and generally unpleasant to read. I suppose that threats on one's life simply becasue the reviewer does not happen to like the pairing chosen have that effect. It might be just me.

Nevertheless, I thank you for your reviews, however crude and unkind they may be. Good day to you.

**_And now, for another reviewer to a different chapter:_**

**Trouble Kelp: **Short but sweet. I'll make this equally so. Thanks a mill, and good luck in all endeavours!

_**Okay! That's it! You all have your thank-yous (or otherwise), so I'll shut up and get to the story! See you at the bottom!

* * *

**_

Holly, doing the most professional and polished thing she could think of, ran into the ladies' room. There, she splashed cold water on her face, dried her face with a paper towel, looked in the mirror, and splashed her face once more. Holly then sputtered over the sink, allowing the drops to fall into the basin, while she tried to collect the curious little torments that were buzzing around in her head into organized thoughts.

It was rather trying.

At long last, she was capable of actual, structured thought. They were as follows:

'What the hell…?'

'He can't!'

'He does!'

'No gods-forsaken way!'

'He does! It was right there! He fancies me!'

'No chance. He can't fancy me…it must have been a typo.'

'The closest thing to "Holly" is "holy", and why in the name of the gods would he write that "holy" is attractive?'

'It's a joke!'

'It can't be! That was Foaly, down to the repulsive grammar! No one else can make a computer sarcastic like that!'

'It's a joke.'

(Author's Note: Hey, I said it was structured; not that it was decisive.)

Holly splashed yet another round of water onto her face, pulling out of her own cluttered psyche. Her inner strategist, though nearly half-dead by years of neglect, was suddenly hard at work.

'It's not a joke!'

Holly's forehead found the counter, and remained there.

* * *

Foaly, meanwhile, was pacing. Well, that is, he was dragging himself around on two legs while the other two remained in his swivel chair. He hadn't enough room to pace properly. His thoughts, though remarkably more organized than Holly's, were equally freaked out. 

'Okay. So, she knows about your journal. Best Case Scenario: she runs in here, professes her deep hidden love, leaps into your arms, kisses you, and it's happily-ever-after from here to the credits. Right. Real probable. Worst Case Scenario: she runs in here, murders you slowly and painfully, somehow manages to blame it on Whitfield, continues working here, and falls in love with Chix. Again, that is the most probable thing under the Earth. So there's absolutely nothing to worry about.'

Foaly sighed, and mentally cursed his parents for giving him such a dorky name. "Foalonious," honestly!

'Likely Scenario: she comes in here and tells you that you should "just be friends" and waits for agreement. You give it, because what else can you do? Then, she goes and ruins both Whitfield and Kelp's respective careers, at long last murdering them. She marries another and you get invited to the wedding (which inevitably means a suit and heartbreak), eventually dying alone with you patents clenched to your heart.'

Somehow, that one was worse than the Worst Case Scenario.

'Evasive Tactics: Lock self in Ops Booth and only come out at midnight for food.'

That one had promise. But Holly could stay up and stay here late.

'Have "the talk" and get it over with.'

That wasn't evasive in the slightest.

'Proclaim self-inflicted mind-wipe and ask where you have been for past decade.'

Though that was probably his favorite, Foaly's plan was dragged to a screeching halt, by "evasive" tactic #2 staring him in the face.

* * *

Chay and Grub had parted ways and were hoping to live through the hour in their respective cubicles. 

Chay had given up trying to fix his computer, but decided to tackle some paperwork in his inbox.

* * *

Holly crept out of the girl's room, flattening herself against the wall. The last thing she wanted to do was talk to anyone. 

Unfortunately for her, she heard a familiar voice singing, "And when I get that feeling  
I want sexual healing, sexual healing, oh baby…" In no time, Holly knew that Chix would be coming around the corner.

Holly desperately looked up into one of the cameras.

"Wouldn't it be a lovely coincidence if you called me into the Ops booth?" she whispered pointedly, sure that Foaly's microphones would have picked up a dead fly hiccupping.

No sound came over the intercom.

"…Helps to relieve my mind, sexual sealing baby, is good for me, sexual healing is something that's good for me…"

"Wouldn't it be lovely if you called me into the Ops boot and spared me having to be sexually assaulted by a bipedal green creature?" Holly whispered fiercely, beginning to panic. Silence, and the nearing, badly-sung strains of "Sexual Healing," reigned.

Chix rounded the corner, and instantly spotted Holly. Wearing his trademark suggestive grin that just made you want to spit, he came over to the fairy. Holly decided to whip out the big guns before the sprite had a chance to say anything.

"Hey, Chix," she said, "want to know Foaly's first name?"

"Holly Short, report to the Operations Booth, NOW!" Foaly's voice, tinny-sounding over the intercom, commanded.

"Hello! Got to go! See you around!" Holly said, and ran like a bat out of hell, leaving a confused and curious sprite in her wake.

* * *

Twenty seconds later, Holly ran into the Ops booth, threw her arms around the centaur therein, and cried "I love you! You rock, Foalonious!" 

Foaly started to hug her back, but then his back went rigid.

Both stood there for a few stupefying seconds, suddenly realizing exactly what happened earlier that day, and exactly the position they were in now. Holly slowly drew her arms back and stood in front of him.

"We need to talk," she said.

"Of course," Foaly nodded. "But, out of curiosity, do you know how heavily that statement in laden with cliché?"

"Go get me a chair."

"There aren't any. They're all taken."

"So get up and let a lady have the chair!" Holly said, gesturing with her hands.

"I take up more space than you!"

"No excuse!"

"Look, you can stand, sit on the floor, or sit on my lap. You've got to pick"

"You don't have a lap."

"Okay, on my back."

"No way in hell," Holly said, and plopped herself onto the floor.

"So…what do you want to talk about?"

* * *

"Grub?" Chay asked quietly, his pen still scribbling, "are you alive? Or at you hanging from the rafters with your throat slit, and soon I'll find mysterious red drops on my papers?" 

"I'm alive, I think," came the alive, non-bloody response.

"Good. Me too. Except that I can't get much work done without my computer." Chay finished the document and leaned back in his chair, after a careful inspection for fear of poison-tipped tacks. "Do you reckon I ought to risk Foaly's wrath and ask about getting it fixed?"

"I don't know. Could be dangerous."

"True. But I'll have to bite the bullet someday. I'll go in a few minutes."

* * *

-Meanwhile, in The Ops Booth-

* * *

"Oh, well, that's perfectly clear now." 

"Yeah; it takes a little while, but eventually you can read quadratic equations like the back of your hand."

"Interesting. So…what music do you listen to?"

"Er…"

"Oh gods…you listen to Disco, don't you?"

"Not exactly…"

"So what, Foalonious?"

"Well…promise you won't laugh."

"I promise."

"…Polka."

"…Polka?"

"Yeah."

"…Polka?"

"And Disco, sometimes."

"…_Pol_-ka?"

"Yes, okay! What do _you_ listen to?"

"Rock. But Foaly…

"Yeah?"

"You're such a nerd."

"I read somewhere that nerds make better lovers. Are you complementing me?"

"Not with a pick-up line like that."

"Yeah, well, scientific studies show…"

* * *

Chay Whitfield strode bravely through the lounge, through the hallways, and through the Tech department to the very heart of the kingdom of fairy police technology, the Ops booth. 

His jaw set and his back erect, his badge polished and shirt tucked in, he looked in every way a brave solider ready to face doom.

In the Police Plaza, gossip travels fast, and the morning's activities had already found themselves in the grapevine. Some fairies reverently bowed their head at Chay's passing, holding a respectful moment of silence for the brave corporal, who was about to meet his maker.

Stepping up to the Ops Booth, he noticed that the door was strangely open a few centimeters. Peeking inside, he let out a gasp.

"Holy fires of hell!" he said aloud, turned on his heel, and strode back towards his cubicle, a bit of a spring to his step. Two voices from the Ops booth floated out.

"What? You'd think he'd never seen two people kiss before!" Foaly's amused, yet irritated voice exclaimed softly.

"I think it's the shock of not seeing you with your tin foil hat on," Holly said.

"Hmm…you may be onto something there."

* * *

_**And so ends a truly pointless (and yet somehow strangely amusing) story.**_

_**To those who reviewed to the sixth chapter: Fear not the apricots. They shalt not harm you! You will not even be forced eat them!**_

_**To those who wish to redeem themselves: Review to this chapter and say the word "Apricots". Then, all will be well!**_

_** To those who never reviewed and never will: Fear the apricots. They will come for you.**_

_** Review! I love you guys (platonically, of course)! Keep a look out for some of my other stuff! I'll do more stuff soon!**_

_** Until next time: This is Semine, signing off!  
**_


	8. HELP! HELP! SOS!

**HELLO! **

**Didn't think I'd be back, didja? Well, here I am, and have I got news!**

My beta, Kali Donovan, and I have a joint account. And as our first act in said account, we are going to torment each other in a competion! That's right!

This is the idea: we make OCs in the universes, and becuse she and I both tend to rwrite romances, we will...dun dun dun! Set each other up with an OC in that universe or a real chacter!

Sound stupid? We thought so! But it will keep us amused. Here are the rules:

1. An author can only use a specific universe once.

2. The OC character must obviously be either Semine or Kali, but the actual names "Semine" and "Kali" cannot be used.

3. Reviews are points. One review therefore equals one point, so review all of Semine's stories many times!

4. Nothing _too_ explicit. Mushy stuff should end with the uber kiss.

5. Teasing allowed, but nothing too cruel.

6. NO GRAVE-DIGGING OR CRADLE-ROBBING!

So there.

There will be ten stories for each of us, twenty all together. We need a prize, so send in ideas!

My peeps, my friends, I implore you; look up msdonovanandmsmidnight (that's our account name) and please, please review my (Semine's) stories! I need at least one victory over Kali!

The first will be mine. It'sa Artemis Fowl Chali Donofield, because Kali really liked Chay Whitfield. YAY! Review many times, please!

I lurve you guys! Thanks for helping!

Your loyal writing servant, Semine!


	9. Whoops

I flipped, I freaked, I suck, and I'm sorry.

I must have totally gone completely berserk last night.

Now that I have successfully alienated both Ariana and Lady Page (something I am not proud of) allow me to rectify something: if anyone is still interested, the links to the other stuff is on my profile, as Lady Page suggested.

I'm going to see about that not-showing-up thing…

Apologies endless,

Until next time: this is Semine, signing off.


End file.
